


Marching Homeward

by FHC_Lynn



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Interspecies Relationship(s), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 01:03:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12222594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FHC_Lynn/pseuds/FHC_Lynn
Summary: Following words of wisdom from the least likely source, Bumblebee took a huge risk. At the other end of the string, Sam decided to stop screwing up his whole life.





	1. Blunt Truths

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a lovely individual who is not actually on AO3 or DW. All characters belong to Hasbro, used here only for an alternate world idea. This was outlined before _The Last Knight_ came out and does not take it into account.

“You say you have charge. But they not listen.”

Honestly ‘more reasonable than the rest’ just meant that Grimlock would occasionally pretend to sound concerned. Mostly, Bumblebee believed the huge mech was trolling him, as Sam would say. And since Bumblebee feared the mech’s uncertain temper, he didn’t want to troll back. Grimlock had not reacted well to Crosshairs’ verbal sparring in prior meetings, after all.

“I do not listen because he is not our true leader,” Drift protested. He rolled one shoulder in a simple, smooth motion that Bumblebee had always envied. His own structure felt more restrictive. “And why are you here if not to laugh at his troubles? You refused when I asked.”

“You ask mean. Him ask like sparkling.”

Which was to say, Bumblebee thought sarcastically, he had begged, and Grimlock found him hilarious. Venting, Bumblebee slapped his hand against Grimlock’s thigh. The ringing sound it produced failed to interrupt the less than flattering conversation between his two biggest detractors. Although Grimlock snorted, by way of reaction. Given his, and his warriors’, dislike of Optimus, Bumblebee had feared the not-so-gentle giant would pound him flat. Instead, he had been incongruously tolerant and amused. If temperamental. Sometimes, Bumblebee could privately acknowledge he was uncharitable about Grimlock’s temper and motives. The ancient warrior had been more supportive than anyone else since Prime left.

Unfortunately, Drift was still Drift.

“I ‘ask mean’?” Drift frowned and folded his arms over his chest. “He _is_ a sparkling, Grimlock. I ask like an adult.”

Bumblebee clanged on Grimlock’s thigh again. The giant shoved between his irritably flexing door panels. “You want speak, _speak_. Don’t beat Grimlock when Drift stupid.”

“I actually had a purpose in calling you here,” Bumblebee shouted over Drift’s sputtering and everyone’s laughter. Ignoring Drift’s sidelong glare, Bumblebee stepped forward around Grimlock’s bulk. Not quite the center of their loose circle, but attention did turn to him. “I know this is new information for you, Grimlock, but we do need to relocate to the North American continent. The Chinese government is very nervous about our presence. And the Yeagers are finally getting a ride back, Drift. I know you remember Prime’s request as well as I do.”

“That mean move? I not care about Prime,” Grimlock said. “Here is like home.”

“I know it reminds you of better times, Grimlock. And I have some ideas about a place that might also work for you guys, where we need to go. It’s colder, but there’s plenty of vegetation and rain still.” And Bigfoot sightings would turn into T-rex sightings. All would be _great_. Mentally squashing his sarcasm, he went on with careful reasonableness, “I know you liked the desert, Hound. And Crosshairs likes the empty roads, at least.”

Crosshairs looked up at him from the low hillock he sat on. Arms folded across his lap, shoulders hunched forward, he presented the picture of annoyed dejection. “Who says I like open roads now?”

“You did, when we moved out there to hide.” Bumblebee tapped the side of his head. “I remember.”

“And you trust the humans to get us across that great puddle there?” Crosshairs demanded. “Because I seem to remember them being the reason we were hiding before, yeah?”

“You should have more faith,” Drift started to say.

“Oh, shut it. You don’t want the kid in charge, neither.”

Shifting from one foot to the next, Grimlock rumbled beside Bumblebee. Bumblebee took a step sideways and eyed the giant. Drift and Crosshairs continued to argue, ignoring Grimlock’s rumbles even as he stepped forward. Bumblebee scrambled backward, and Grimlock reached out, grabbed both by the shoulder, and roared in their audials.

In the ringing silence that followed, Bumblebee vented. “Grimlock, that’s not -- “

“You say you have charge. They not listen to Bumblebee. Listen to Grimlock. Speak again, maybe bang heads. Maybe heads break. Maybe see insides. Want see insides?”

“No, thank you. I shall pass,” Drift croaked out.

“Ow! Why are you helping him?” Crosshairs demanded as he tried ineffectually to shake Grimlock off.

Bumblebee watched as Grimlock let Drift go. Keeping hold of Crosshairs, Grimlock bent to snort in the other’s face. Grimlock looked at Hound then Bumblebee then Drift and finally back to Crosshairs, still struggling in his hand. “Not here for help. Not stupid. Home here but home gone. Cybertron gone too. Big war happen. You speak funny. No one remember Grimlock. Not listen, what do? Deal with tiny creatures? Tiny creatures kill. Bumblebee share memory. Memory not lie. Hound say nothing. Or chew on sparkling gun and say stories. Drift say Prime. Only Prime, Prime, Prime. Prime not here. Crosshairs say me, me, me. Like sparkling. Not only you here. Bumblebee say plans. Not stupid things. Maybe you stop saying stupid things, Grimlock listen. Grimlock want plans. Bumblebee have plans. Grimlock listen.”

Crosshairs sputtered. Grimlock tightened his grip again, and Crosshairs hissed. “Lemme go. I don’t gotta like this scrap. And he ain’t got an answer about trusting the little water bags. It’s not like we can walk up and over the ice like _they_ did once upon their time.”

“We can’t,” Bumblebee cut in before Grimlock could say anything. “You’re right, Crosshairs. But I was contacted by Lennox. He’s...an old friend, and he’s said he will be in command of the team helping us move with the Yeagers.”

“And you trust him?” Crosshairs glared at him. “With our lives? Because that’s what it is, right? Our lives if they chunk us in that puddle.”

“Lennox is one I do trust. Yes,” Bumblebee said. He glanced away, letting his mind wander back to NEST, and further back to Sam, for a moment before shaking himself back to the present. “He helped save Prime once. Against his people’s orders. But if you want to try that ship we left crashed outside Hong Kong. I don’t think the humans have managed to crack it open yet.”

Looking to Grimlock, Hound reset his vocalizer and leaned his weight forward on his boulder seat. “It _can_ fly again. We could move it. The problem would be doin’ it without the humans following it with their satellites. If we could move it without them watching and figure a way to hide it without them catching on when we land it… Well, then we’d have a secure place. Trusting one or two is one thing, I guess. But I ain’t forgot they were killin’ us either.”

“Lockdown was moving the ship around. He was working with a private company, not their government, right? Maybe it has cloaker?” Bumblebee glanced at Grimlock as well, remembering that the ancient mech had known how to seal the ship when they had needed to move away from the crash site.

Venting, Grimlock glanced eastward, toward the distant lights of Hong Kong. “Legends,” he muttered. “Older than Prime. My ship. Maybe him remember. Maybe him don’t. Not care. Can fly my ship. Tiny creatures not see _flight_. Lift and land, will see. Maybe.”

“So it has a cloaker?” Bumblebee asked. Parsing Grimlock’s grasp of modern Cybertronian could make his processor ache. “But it will be visible taking off and landing?”

“No. Cloaker work, whatever ship do. Ship move air. Push things. Still real ship.”

“Oh,” Bumblebee mumbled in sudden understanding. “Yeah. There’s -- I forgot about that.”

“What’s that mean?” Crosshairs demanded.

“Means the cloaker’s some kind of light bender,” Hound said, shrugging. “Anyone around to see it take off or land will see and hear all the usual happenings. Dirt flying, engine noise. Just not the ship that’s causing it.”

“I’d still like to risk that. I… I think Drift and I can risk going with Lennox and the Yeagers. Grimlock, if I gave you coordinates to land, could you come with Crosshairs and Hound?”

“Now, hey!”

“Think you take Crosshairs and Hound,” Grimlock growled, cutting Crosshairs off. He poked Crosshairs for good measure then turned to Bumblebee. “Bring mine with me. Maybe tiny creatures kill you. Maybe need us come help. Better if you not just two. Hold ground.”

“An’ if they try dumping us off the plane? I mean, I’m guessing they’re takin’ a plane?” Crosshairs demanded, swatting at Grimlock’s claws.

“Then see if Grimlock can catch.” Grimlock’s laughter always put Bumblebee in mind of thunder. It rumbled through the ground, and one felt it through one’s pedes. “Grimlock good pilot. Hung upside down long time, though. Maybe rusty.”

“It’s a plan worth trying,” Bumblebee shouted over Crosshairs’ sputtering response. “Unless anyone has a better idea? Grimlock flies under their plane, they’ll see _us_ move. And the dinobots here will disappear.”

“I got an idea. Don’t use the cloaker at take off. Let them see the ship leave atmo,” Hound said, “before Grimlock comes back with the cloaker on to land.”

“What?”

“Let ‘em think the, uh, dinobots left our rusted chassis here. They don’t know these guys prefer Earth to Cybertron.”

“You destroyed Cybertron,” Grimlock rumbled.

“Not just us you giant slag heap!” Crosshairs hissed back.

“Stop!” Bumblebee shouted, slapping Grimlock’s thigh again. “It is destroyed, and Grimlock has a right to be upset. Hound’s idea is a good one, though. They don’t have to know you’re still here. We can’t hide it forever, but that would give you, and us, a bigger safety margin. And more time to acclimate.”

Grimlock glared at him. “You think me want come?”

“No. But I think you want to be alone here less than you want to stay here.” Bumblebee remembered the long talk Grimlock had demanded about Cybertron, the war, and a long-gone version of Earth. Bumblebee felt for the whole ancient group of them; he truly did. Coming out of stasis imprisonment to find everything they had known burned… Well, Bumblebee hadn’t taken it nearly as well, and he had been coldly aware for the destruction of Cybertron.

Perhaps it had been too much change? Perhaps they didn’t seem real to Grimlock yet.

“We go. But not like. We pretend leave. Follow tiny creatures’ ship. Play catch if they drop. Land where say good.”

“Thank you, Grimlock,” Bumblebee vented, relaxing. Then he looked at the others.

Drift shrugged, crossing his arms. Crosshairs and Hound exchanged looks, sizing the other up. Crosshairs spoke first, “Fine. I’ll do it your way, then. Flit across the water and pray they don’t drop us in it.”

“Droppin’ us in water doesn’t seem to actually work, keeping us down,” Hound murmured. “And it’s easier to hide when we know the geography better. When’s this happening?”

“Two days from now. At the Hong Kong airport, since we didn’t tear it up,” Bumblebee replied. While Drift didn’t care for his attempts at leadership, the mech at least felt the same regarding humans. They had the same base goals. Bumblebee shifted his weight on his pedes and allowed himself to think about Sam again. Unconsciously, he looked toward Hong Kong’s lights. Like Grimlock, moments before. Shaking himself, again, he looked back at Grimlock. “Maybe it’s best you leave before then, Grimlock? Take an orbit of the planet? It’ll look more like you left us, then.”

“You’re thinkin’ of that human again.”

Bumblebee glanced sidelong at Crosshairs. Now standing over Bumblebee, Crosshairs smirked down at him, but it was Drift that snorted. “Of course he is. You two are the same, I swear --”

“I ain’t nothing like him,” Crosshairs growled. He turned to shove Drift. “I want nothing much to do with these things. Especially not to love one!”

“Sheesh, Crosshairs. Don’t start that again.”

“Hound, I got every reason to bring up this up again an’ again --”

Grimlock growled. If his laughter reminded Bumblebee of thunder, _that_ sputtering rumble of sound reminded him entirely too much of artillery fire. Crosshairs and Hound stopped arguing to eye Grimlock warily. Grimlock glared at them, snorted, then smacked Bumblebee lightly on the back. Bumblebee still staggered. Grimlock looked at Crosshairs. “See? Bumblebee say plans. Crosshairs say stupid.”

“You skippin’ off was my idea,” Hound muttered.

“You still chew on gun more than speak.”

Hound snorted and waved Grimlock off. “Fine. I’m gonna meet you there then, Bumblebee. Shouldn’t all be in one place unless we have to be.”

“True that. And, Drift, even you -- Damn it all.” Crosshairs spun around to search, but Drift was nowhere to be seen.

“Hopefully he heard,” Bumblebee muttered. “If you see him, though…”

“Yeah, kid. I know,” Crosshairs grumbled. “I’ll make sure he knows Primus’ own will.”

Bumblebee ground his denta together. It did no good to answer their prods. They had agreed to come. It would have to do. Grimlock stayed as Crosshairs and Hound slipped away. Alone, or even just with Bumblebee, he reverted to his alternate mode; Bumblebee couldn’t blame him for feeling more comfortable that way. Grimlock had a lot of stories about the bygone Earth he had lived on. Still, Bumblebee was surprised when the ancient mech folded down to sit beside him.

Looking up at the crouched tyrannosaur, Bumblebee saw Grimlock watching the lights of Hong Kong again. “Grimlock?”

“Earth good world,” he said, looking down at Bumblebee. “Look different. Life same. Watched many generations live here. Watched them die, too. Maybe now watch many more.”

“That’s the hope.” Bumblebee shifted on his pedes, wondering what Grimlock was getting at. While parsing his dialect was hard, Bumblebee had realized Grimlock was far wiser than the others wanted to give him credit for. Grimlock rarely spoke without having a purpose and a point. This was going somewhere, and Grimlock felt it important. To _Bumblebee_.

“Crosshairs say that much. When Bumblebee look away. Five time now? Maybe seven. Not count. You not say wrong.”

Venting, Bumblebee looked away… Then joined in Grimlock’s rumbling laughter, amused at himself. “I… There is a human I think of often, yes. I have not seen him since the battle of Chicago.”

“Sam. From memory.”

“Yes. Sam.”

Grimlock turned back to the distant lights. “When taken from Cybertron, lose one world. When taken from Earth, lose second. But maybe Earth not different. Only _look_ different.”

“There are the humans…?” Bumblebee watched Grimlock and waited.

“But miss the old Earth. The animals were friends. We played with babies. Watched them grow. Watched them mate. Watched them die. Sam is tiny creature? You call human. They live long time?”

“Not as long as some,” Bumblebee admitted. He found himself looking toward the lights again, too. “Not as long as we do.”

“Grimlock watched many animals long time. Different, sometimes. But mostly same,” Grimlock said. Lowering his big head to the ground, he almost looked like he would settle into recharge. “Tiny creatures like us. Names and minds. Only one Sam for Bumblebee, maybe.”

A chill trickled into Bumblebee’s tank and spread out into his lines. “The humans -- Crosshairs --”

Grimlock shrugged ad stood up. “Grimlock say what think. Bumblebee do what want. Not hurt Crosshairs if Bumblebee love one tiny creature more than others. Hurt Bumblebee if love one and not have.”

Bumblebee watched Grimlock rise and stomp away while he felt the cold close in on his spark.


	2. Regret

“Nonono, not again!”

Sam took the stairs in a barely controlled fall while still trying to pull his shirt on. His unzipped pants threatened to fall and take out his ankles at any moment. Using the wall at the bottom of the stairs as a brake, Sam took a second to pull those up one more time, at least close the single button at the top of his fly, and get his left arm through a shirt sleeve.

At the other end of the entry hall the stairs spilled into sat the living room. Beyond that, through the open sliding glass door, Sam saw Carly on the deck. With a coffee mug in one hand, she watched the ducks play in the wannabe lake sitting in the middle of the circle of townhouses pretending to be cabins.

She did not turn around to see what his problem was this time.

Sam hopped to the sideboard sitting by the front door while getting his right arm in the other sleeve. Realizing he had the shirt on backwards cost precious time in turning it around. Shoving his feet into his shoes, he worked on buttoning his shirt. He also saw a problem. Shouting to be heard outside, he called, “Keys?”

“What?”

“My keys,” Sam shouted back while he zipped his fly. Finally. The storage keys were there. The gate keys. Carly’s BMW’s keys. But not his battered Mazda’s keys. “Where are my keys?”

“Oh. I thought you could stay home today.”

“Carly, I need to get to work --”

“You don’t need to work,” she muttered, turning to face him. “We talked about this. I make plenty of money for you to stay home. You can take care of the house. Write that book you talked about. Whatever.”

It was a nice, enlightened world view. A nice stay-at-home husband life. Maybe he could even clean himself up enough to look as good, for a guy, as a stay-at-home wife was somehow supposed to manage for the breadwinning husband. He did like spending time at home. He did. On the other hand, at work he had distractions. Distance. “Carly, what’d you do with my keys? God, Rick is going to fire me --”

“Sam Spencer, I want you to spend the day with me. Rick can damn well suck it up for a day.”

Freezing, Sam stopped searching through the sideboard to stare at Carly. He knew that tone. He had heard it often enough over the past five years. It didn’t matter that Rick had been expected to suck it up once a week so far, and it hadn’t even been a month. Carly was remembering, and when Carly remembered, Sam had to help.

“Carly, this is my first job in a year…”

“Come sit with me. Please, Sam?”

Sam dropped his wallet back in the drawer, took off his shoes, and walked out to the deck in his fancy dress socks.

Some hours later, after Carly finally produced his keys, she didn’t argue with Sam offering to go pick up the things he needed to make a special dinner for her. She did make him promise to hurry back. Sometimes, Sam wondered if he should be paranoid. Watching the late afternoon light shine across the green apples he put into his basket in the open air farmer’s market, he felt ridiculous worrying about it.

It was okay if Carly was a little dictatorial. She had reason. They had nearly died in Chicago. And for him, it was kind of a regular thing. Any time he was around the Autobots, he almost died. And once he _had_ died. So after Chicago, she had gotten them safely out of reach. And without Brains or Wheelie tagging along. It had been five years now and not a peep. No one thought of that Witwicky guy, looking at his bearded face out here in the upper-upper-middle class neighborhood they lived in now. And while the news was full of giant alien mecha destroying things again, none had found him. This morning’s freak out wasn’t so crazy either, in light of the news. He just needed to give her time to calm down again. He had his normal life. With Carly.

Instead of traipsing about with plasma guns and bombs going off, Sam got to spend his Saturday with his beautiful wife and think about baking an apple pie for dessert. He didn’t have to think about aliens or death or war… Or Bumblebee. Shaking his head, he brought himself back to the present. Apples and eggs he could get here along with _real_ butter. He had sugar and flour at home…

A flash of warm yellow in the parking lot caught his eye, and Sam froze, staring at the egg in his hand and the basket on his arm. He didn’t want to look up. He could still see it moving, entirely too close to his Mazda. Dread knotted in his gut, fighting with a longing he had refused to name since Chicago. Slowly, he lifted his eyes from the egg and basket he held.

A Camaro, yellow with black racing stripes, pulled into the empty spot next to his Mazda. No driver. Of course there wasn’t a driver. Not a human one. Bumblebee was the driver.

Sam looked down at his hands again. They shook. One was covered in egg guts. Someone was talking to him? He looked up. The stall owner looked more concerned than angry, at least. Sam smiled, kind of, and accepted the wet towel they offered. He paid for his groceries, broken egg included, and froze again at the edge of the market. Just a few more feet. He would be at his dinky little Mazda.

Bumblebee hadn’t stood up. He hadn’t blared some kind of cheeky sound bite. He just sat there. Waiting.

Sam needed to get home. He just had to get into his car. Bumblebee would let him do that. Right? Angry as he must have been when Sam walked out, he wouldn’t act like some jealous ex. The idea was crazy. Giant robot aliens jealous of tiny organic critters. Naw. Though he did remember Bumblebee dinging an innocent VW before taking out all the car windows in a lot…

Forcing himself forward, Sam fumbled with his car keys. Once inside his car, Bumblebee would let him go. He would go away again and leave Sam alone. He would. This was just some kind of welfare check. Right?

Bumblebee opened his door when Sam stopped beside the Mazda. Sam stopped moving, but he didn’t turn to look.

“Sam?”

Closing his eyes, Sam took a deep breath and let it go slowly. The sound of Bumblebee’s voice _hurt_. He hadn’t thought it would hurt. But now his head ached and his stomach cramped as he unlocked the Mazda. “Gotta get home. Making dinner. Real Italian style spaghetti. Maybe an apple pie, too.”

“I can follow --”

“No. Don’t. Please.”

“Sam, I need to talk to you.”

“There’s nothing to say. I finally got my life on track, Bee.”

“There’s a _lot_ to say, Sam -- Sam!”

After slamming the Mazda’s door to cut off Bumblebee’s voice, Sam cranked the engine and slammed the car into reverse. He was out on the road before the Mazda’s incessant dinging about his seatbelt worked through his turmoil. He didn’t see Bumblebee in his review, but he knew that didn’t mean a damn thing. If Bumblebee had been at the market, he already knew where Sam lived. Bumblebee was smart.

Still. It was home. And normal. And Carly was there. _Carly_.

He was still shaking when he stumbled into the townhome. 

“Hey, Sam! Did you get my text? I found the garlic bulbs -- What’s wrong? Oh geez, sweetheart. You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” Carly took the bag from him, set it on the counter, and pulled him to the little breakfast nook. “Come on, sit down. It’s okay. We’re okay. We’re far from anything here --”

Sam started laughing. He ended up hunched over, gasping for air. “No,” he moaned when the ugly laughter passed. “We’re not far enough. Saw Bumblebee. At the market, I mean. He wanted to talk --”

“Oh, God. No. Not again. This can’t be happening again, Sam.”

Looking up, Sam saw she stared through the sliding doors to the placid lake. The ducks circled in the water. Someone’s dog stood on the shore, barking. There were kids playing frisbee. Someone across the lake was barbecuing. Normal.

“I didn’t call him!”

“It was that job. You put down Witwicky, didn’t you? Sam, damnit, you can’t just toss that name around --”

“I did not! They don’t ask guys about maiden names!” Sometimes they asked about ‘other names you are known by’, but Rick hadn’t. Rick hadn’t cared about Sam being so quiet about everything but the day’s work. But Rick ran the smallest delivery service out there. Sam’s quiet let Rick think about business. Or had, anyway.

“Then why is it here _now_? We’ve been free of them for five years! You’d think they’d forget --”

Except Bumblebee wouldn’t forget. Maybe he couldn’t? Although a computer could be wiped or fried, right? But Sam had figured, after talking with Lennox, that Bumblebee _couldn’t_ be demagnetized or shorted or whatever like a dumb machine. Lennox had said one pumped out an EMP at a base in Qatar, and it had been in the center of it. Obviously, since that one had caused it. So they were either immune to the power surge or shielded from it, which meant the same thing at the other end. Bumblebee wouldn’t just forget. He would have to delete the memories, and Sam didn’t picture that happening.

Sam couldn’t forget, either.

“Or that they’d get a clue and leave us alone! We don’t want them here --”

Except that wasn’t true, either. Was it? Maybe John Q. Public did? But Lennox, say? Epps and Graham? The men in N.E.S.T. hadn’t wanted the Autobots to leave. Comrades in arms kind of thing. The government wanted to use them. Experiments, right? Business corporations, too. Anything that turned a profit. But Sam wanted to be left alone. He did. He didn’t want to be caught up in this disaster.

His stomach still twisted with the echo of Bumblebee’s voice.

“We’ll start packing tomorrow. We’ll move. We’ll keep your name off of everything this time. You can stay home, work on that book, and he won’t find us again.. It’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

“I don’t want to move again, Carly,” Sam groaned, holding his head. “We just finished unpacking.”

“Damn it, Sam. I’m not having this in our lives. This will ruin everything! They all do, every time they show up!” Carly waved a hand toward the sliding glass door and the evening lake scene beyond. “That? That is normal. Not having a building collapsed around you by giant alien war machines!”

“They’re not war machines! Geez, Carly. I told Bumblebee to leave me alone. It’ll be fine. I’m gonna… I’ll make dinner. We’ll eat. It’ll be fine.” Sam knew he babbled, but he just wanted to stop talking about it. Pretend he hadn’t said anything. Pretend it would all go away.

“It’s not okay. It’s not. We have to move. You know we do. Then it will be okay.”

“I -- Yeah. Yeah… You found the garlic? Gotta eat...”

“Yeah. Back of the pantry.”

Sam climbed to his feet and went through the motions of making dinner. Staring at the boiling pasta, it occurred to him that was all he had ever done. Whenever he walked away, it was always the motions of what he thought normal was. He guessed he faked it well enough. Carly was happy. When he played along. But Sam remembered yearning twined with his fear.

Dinner was a cold, silent time. Carly was angry, and Sam was lost in memory.

Monday morning, after a Sunday full of arguments, Sam sat on the veranda and watched the kids down the street playing basketball. Sighing into his phone, Sam said, “Carly, I told you, I don’t want to move again. He hasn’t come back. We’re good here.”

“No, we’re not. I can do some house-hunting from here, but you have to help pack, Sam. We shouldn’t have to leave everything behind again. You know we can’t do this. I need you to pack our things. I’ll get us a house.”

“Look, can’t we just wait --” Sam leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He was so tired.

“No, Sam. We can’t ‘just wait’. One’s found us. It’s time to run. I want to see some of the boxes we got filled when I get home,” Carly snapped. “I’m going back to work. I’ll see you tonight, okay? Sam? Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay, Carly. I understand.”

“Good. I love you, Sam.”

“Me too you, babe.”

Her laugh still sounded sweet and golden, but the click at the end was a relief. He buried his face in his free hand. The other, holding his phone, dropped loosely between his knees. He didn’t look up when the low rumble of an engine pulled up his drive. The sound faded rather than cut. No one got out. He wasn’t shocked to see Bumblebee sitting in the driveway when he turned his face away from his palm. Sam had been nothing but nerves and need for five years, and the last two days turned anxiety into torment.

“Sam? Can we talk?”

Once upon a time, he had been brave. He still felt that old thrill of fear, looking at Bumblebee now that he had when he had realized something extraordinary was happening around him. Then, he hadn’t tried to run away. He hadn’t known how bad it would get. But Sam remembered thinking it didn’t matter. It wasn’t fifty years past. Just five. Sam didn’t regret getting in the car. He regretted getting out.

Carly would be so scared and angry.

“Bee…”

Sam had his normal right here. Maybe five years meant nothing. Maybe he knew Sam too well, still. Bumblebee opened his driver’s side door and waited. Drawn in like iron to a magnet, Sam got up, climbed off the veranda, and slid into the driver’s seat. Surrendering to the sense of déjà vu, Sam grasped the steering wheel with his free hand and traced the faction symbol with his thumb. Bumblebee turned on the air conditioner, or whatever the heck it was for him, to combat the summer heat. Better than blowing out car windows. Sam sighed.

“Right. You’ve got my attention. Talk. What’s it you need to chase me down after all this time to say?”

Around Sam, Bumblebee gave the funniest little shake. If Sam hadn’t known better, he would think Bumblebee was nervous. “Well… I want to be together again.”

“Bee, that’s like a corny pickup line.” Sam braced his elbow on the car door and rested his chin in his palm. He didn’t really see the house in front of them. “Look, it was fun and all…”

“It’s the best I could think of,” Bumblebee muttered. And that got Sam’s attention to turn sharply down at the steering wheel. It wasn’t Bumblebee’s face, but it was somewhere to focus his shock while Bumblebee continued, “Look, I… I really miss being with you, Sam. I know you said I’m -- that my people -- have done you nothing but hurt you. I -- It was never supposed to be like this. I’d like to be in your life again. I want a chance to do better.”

Gaze lifting to stare through the window, a corner of his mind focused on wondering again what it was really made of. They couldn’t be steel and glass and plastics, not the way they knocked each other around. Most importantly, it wasn’t flesh and bone, either. This sounded like an apology after a bad break up, and that… That just couldn’t be right. “Bee, this is getting weirder by the second. What exactly are you asking me here?”

“Yeah, well. I’m trying not to be scary weird right up front.” Bumblebee rolled back and forth on his wheels. “It’s… It’s, uh, kind of become clear to me, since you left, that…that I really don’t want to be without you. I know I was a dark spot in your life, but you were a bright one in mine.”

“Okay, you’re making this sound like we had a bad relationship --”

“Didn’t we?” Bumblebee said softly. “You did say you loved your car once.”

Sam stopped, all of the sudden immensely uncomfortable with sitting inside Bumblebee’s cabin. It was stupid. He knew it was. Sam was pretty sure that whatever they _had_ that made little Cybertronians, it wasn’t analogous. And as well as Bumblebee knew humans, the weirdness of human brains often seemed to blindside him. “You’re...not a car. You can just look like one.”

“You _did_ buy me.”

“You busted every other car on the lot!”

“Only the windows.”

“Why am I arguing this?”

“Because life is strange? Sam, I -- Okay, if you tell me to go away, I will. But I… I really hope you don’t. I hadn’t… I miss you.”

God, it sounded like Bumblebee meant ‘already’. Which made sense, when Sam thought about it. His great-great-grandfather had found Megatron. He didn’t know how long they lived, but forever didn’t seem a stretch. From Sam’s limited perspective it might just be the same, anyway. “Bee --”

“Sam, I was your friend. I want to be more than that to you. I know… I know I’m probably scaring you, and --”

“I’m not scared,” Sam cut in. “I’m freaked out. This sounds like… Like a declaration of love.”

“Well… Kind of?”

“Fuck me.”

“Uh. I hadn’t planned that far ahead.”

This time the wheel-rolling felt damned awkward, and Sam’s face hurt from the blood rushing up there. “Bee --”

“You don’t have to answer me right away. Think about it for a while first. Please?” Bumblebee hurried on before Sam could collect his wits enough to actually answer. “I can call you? Or you can call me maybe?”

 _My life as a Carly Rae Jepsen song_ , Sam thought. Looking at his house again, he thought of his Carly. Weekend dinners. Lakeside afternoons. He thought of the kids he didn’t have and his parents living far away from wherever he was. He thought about how much he had missed Bumblebee and how freaked out he really wasn’t. “Right. Okay, give me your number…? Guessing you can still hack the phone company.”

“It’s, uh, kind of how I found you.”

“I’m gonna walk right by that, okay? I’ll call. If. If I don’t, you gotta leave me alone. Number?”

Sam programmed it into his phone, grateful Bumblebee hadn’t just hacked it in there himself. Climbing out of Bumblebee’s cabin, Sam rubbed a hand over his face. He shoved his phone into his pocket and stepped onto the grass beside the driveway. “Don’t… Don’t come back unless I call. Okay? I can’t think with you here. And it upsets Carly. I mean, you know I’m married…”

“I know. I didn’t… I didn’t think I’d be a problem.”

Sam heard the heartache behind the softly spoken words, and he closed his eyes. Bumblebee didn’t expect Sam to call. He listened to Bumblebee back up and pull away from the curb. Sam had the normal life he wanted. So why did it feel like he had just stomped on his own chest?


	3. All Is Fair

All afternoon, after ending their phone call, Carly had been certain that Sam wouldn’t pack a thing. Not just because yesterday had been worse than usual for heated discussions, though it didn’t help that today had been no better. When they had run from Chicago, all they had talked about together was sharing the picket fence life. A pretty house, a big yard, and two-point-five kids where point-five was a dog. Or a cat. Not one where point-five was a car.

Especially not a car that got them shot at, landed them on buildings getting blown up, or worse.

When she walked into the home they shared, she stared into the unlit interior. "Sam?"

"In here," he called from somewhere ahead of her. Bottom floor, at least. Probably the living room?

After locking the door, she put her things on the sideboard by the dim streetlight falling through the decorative glass before moving further inside. She turned the kitchen light on as she passed. Now she saw Sam sitting in the dark living room. Walking around the counter island, she approached her husband, stomach tensing into knots. She didn't want to fight over their safety again, and she didn't understand where they had taken that turn. He had been so _happy_ when they had first run together.

Sitting on the end of the coffee table, she swallowed and folded her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking. He watched her, face pinched and shoulders tensed. He looked as afraid as she felt. "Sam --"

"I said I wanted to wait."

"And I want to feel safe, Sam. We can't trust --"

"Bee isn't some psycho-killer, okay? He's my friend, Carly," Sam started to say. He cut off when Carly lifted her hand, palm to him.

"Excuse me? Friend? He's the same as the rest. We can't stay here and just wait for the rest to come. They'll all fight, that's all they do, and we'll die in the middle, Sam! Be reasonable. We can't do this again. I can't."

"And I want some time to think, Carly --"

"Think?" she demanded. Shouted. She didn’t want to, but anger and fear bubbled up so fast. "About what -- Wait. You talked to him again! Damn it, Sam Spencer. We agreed! You wanted this as much as I did!"

"Yeah, well. People change!" he snapped back at her. "And I want some time to think."

"About _what_? I'm your wife. He was your car! And not a very good one. Good cars go from point A to point B and don't intentionally drag you into a war!"

Sam stood up and so did she. They were both yelling, and Carly honestly wanted to scream. Only the bitter determination not to cry and have that thrown in her face held back the tears. While Sam had never done that, not even as they began to argue more, others had. And she desperately wanted to hold the high ground for this.

"Fine. You pack up and go. I'll sleep in the damn guest room --"

"Sam! What the hell?" Carly stalked after him, heels clicking on the hardwood, "Pity's sake, what did he tell you? You know how it ends, dealing with him! I don't want to die, Sam. Okay? We move, we hide, and he can't get us killed!"

"Christ, Carly. He always did his best to protect me! And you! How can you think he would --"

"And Sentinel wasn't a 'good' robot first? Their Prime's mentor? That’s what you said, right? You can't fight like that, Sam, for millions and millions of years, and not be crazy! No. I can't trust him either. I want us to be safe. Why are _we_ fighting?"

Sam stopped, three steps up the stairs, but he didn't look back. He stared at the landing wall above them, clearly not seeing it. He sighed and rubbed the side of his face. "Because I need to think. We're safe enough right now, okay? But if you want to find somewhere else to stay, you can do that. I won't stop you. I'm going to take my time and think --"

"About _what_?" Carly demanded again, folding her arms together. "What could he say that's more important than our marriage? I deserve to know."

"He's my friend, Carly. I... I dropped that because I was stupid and afraid. I love you, Carly. But this," Sam said. Turning to face her, he put a hand on the rail for balance and gestured vaguely at the house around them. "I don't know if this is me. If it ever was. And maybe I can't do it anymore. Maybe I need to think about what the fuck I'm doing before I waste more of my life and yours."

Opening her mouth, Carly found she had no words. Whatever she had expected to hear, that hadn't been it. Shaking her head for a sense of clarity, she finally managed to ask, "You're considering leaving me...for your car?"

"He's not a car, Carly. He's a giant alien robot that can _look_ like a car." Sam rubbed his face again. "And I know that sounds just as crazy, okay? I'm going to think in the guest room. I get that you don't feel safe. You wanna go stay at a hotel... I'll call you later. If you're not here."

Sam hurried up the steps with Carly gaping behind him. For a long time, she just stood there. She wanted to be angry. She was hurt. Very hurt, and that pain nudged her up the stairs to their bedroom. She passed the closed guest room in silence. Inside their bedroom, she grabbed a suitcase from the closet and picked out enough clothes to fake a week's worth of outfits.

When had it all started falling apart? Carly couldn't put her finger on when. And right that moment, it didn't matter. It had, and she didn't feel safe. It was time to retreat, at least for now, and hope tomorrow would be normal again.

* * *

Bumblebee received Sam's call while resting on a ridge overlooking the neighborhood Sam lived in. While he probably shouldn't have stayed quite so close to the home Sam shared with Carly, Bumblebee couldn't help himself. He hadn't lied about using Sam's phone to find him; he just hadn't been truthful about _when_. He had followed it, and Carly's, when Sam had first left them. Left _him_. The need to keep track of Sam and know that he was safe had felt more important than keeping strictly to his hands-off agreement with Sam and Carly.

And if sometimes he felt a bit creepy for it, he _had_ left them alone until now.

"Sam?"

"Don't get many other calls, huh?"

"You think an advanced alien being wouldn't have caller I.D.?"

"Yeah, yeah. Yuck it up. So," Sam sighed over the connection, "um... Whatcha doing?"

"Who's giving the corny pick-up lines now?" Bumblebee rolled back on his wheels, physically cycling his vents, though he didn't bother to share the sound over the connection. "I'm watching the stars right now."

"Yeah? You don't, I don't know, have something going on?"

"There's a lot going on, Sam. But I don't want to trouble you with it --"

"I need to know what I'm getting back into. Remind myself why I walked away. If I still can't deal... I don't know, Bee. Doesn't seem fair to either of us, you know? And Carly... God. She's actually staying somewhere else right now. She's avoiding me. I'm supposed to be her partner. That's how marriage works."

"Sam, I --"

"No, listen. Please. I'm supposed to be her partner. Husbands and wives are supposed to work together to keep house, raise kids if they want them, and face whatever comes at them." Rustling punctuated Sam's call, and he sighed again. "So you tell me what you're asking me to turn my back on her for? Because she doesn't want anything to do with you and the others."

Bumblebee thought for a moment before saying, "That's a fair request. Can I answer in person, though? You know as well as I do how safe phone connections aren't."

After a pause, Sam groaned. "I don't understand why I do this to myself. Right. I'll meet you at the farmer's market."

Sam always trusted him to understand references to human things; to know, say, what a farmer's market even was. Perhaps it was nothing more than thinking Bumblebee looked on their internet, but, like Jazz, study, understanding, and sharing that information had always been part of his most important tasks. He knew he wasn't far from the market, but he also didn't think it a good idea to admit he had been, well, skulking about. In that light, Bumblebee didn't want to admit he could be there in five minutes. Instead, he said, "I can be there in an hour?"

"You actually drove out of town? Really?"

"Uh..."

"I'm going to be there in fifteen. You show up whenever you want, okay?"

"Right. Meet you there soon, Sam."

Bumblebee let go of the connection and vented sharply. His own jittery feelings rolled harsh feedback along his sensors. He didn't know if Sam understood what Bumblebee was asking, but Sam was willing to talk with him. He hoped that meant Sam was listening and trying to understand.

He didn't dare hope that meant Sam was considering renewing their friendship, let alone anything more. This was more promise than he had had this morning, so Bumblebee held on to that. Mentally sorting what information was safe to share, he rolled back from the ridge and turned himself toward the little exit road. If Sam already guessed he had lied, Bumblebee might as well own up to it.

Eleven minutes after he parked at the very far edge of the market, Bumblebee saw Sam’s beat up Mazda pulling into the lot. But who was counting? Bumblebee stayed where he was. Sam _looked_ at him then walked into the market. Sam picked up a few items, over a slow stroll through the open air market, and traded cash to the man stationed nearest Bumblebee. Sam walked toward Bumblebee then as if everything were normal.

Bumblebee had to admit it was smoother than Sam had been years ago.

He let Sam open the door and held in the relieved ex-vent as Sam sat himself in the driver’s seat and set his bag in the passenger seat. Pulling Bumblebee’s door closed, Sam muttered, “All right. So. On last week’s episode of _My Fucked-Up Life_ , I, uh, got the idea you were putting the moves on me, and I need to know everything I’m getting back into. I need to remember why I left.”

“I’m only trying to be with you again.”

“Bee…” Sam sighed and put his head back against the seat. He pulled on the seat belt to buckle himself in. “Look, drive. Tell me a story. Tell me why you’re back. Tell me who’s left.”

“Just...me. After the battle in Chicago, your government turned on us again,” Bumblebee said as he pulled out of his parking space. He was silent as he pulled out into traffic and headed back out of the tiny lakeside community. Bumblebee knew Sam was right; if he wanted Sam to come back to him, he would have to tell Sam everything. Or as much as he could without a commitment. “I even thought we had lost Prime this time. He sent out a message, warning us away from humans then he went dark. We tried to hide, but they… A private company began working with a Cybertronian bounty hunter. At least, I think Lockdown is like us. He killed Ratchet for them. They… They used our parts to build machines that weren’t us and were. Ones they could control.”

“Automata.”

Bumblebee paused to look up the word and flinched. Another driver honked behind him. “Yeah. That. You know that’s a little close --”

“Bee. What happened to Prime?”

“A family of humans found him nearly dead. They helped him and were attacked for it. Your government, the business, Lockdown. I’m not even sure anymore. He brought them to where I was hiding with the ones left… Hound, Drift, and Crosshairs.”

“Everyone I knew is gone, then? Except you and Prime.”

“Prime has… Prime has left, too.”

“Left,” Sam said flatly. “He went after the things, didn’t he? What happened after you found the things?”

“We left. We’re scary and violent, right?” Bumblebee took a turn a little sharply, then settled. It wasn’t as if it were untrue. A people gone mad, perhaps, with war and destruction. He felt Sam shift in the seat. His heart had sped up, and his eyes were on the empty stretches of vegetation that had replaced the suburban homes. Bumblebee steeled himself, wondering if Sam saw the destruction their battles always caused superimposed over the world. Sometimes, Bumblebee’s mind got stuck there, in the devastation.

He went on, “They sent their machines to bring us in after that. Collect our parts to make their...things. Lockdown took Prime and the daughter of the man that saved him during the fight. When Lockdown met with some other humans, we snuck aboard his ship to free Prime and the girl. I found the humans. Crosshairs found the fighter ships. We got out with the human that way. Hound and Drift found Prime, and they separated a section of Lockdown’s ship. I think you probably saw the news on that…”

“Yeah. Took out half of Chicago again. This is not encouraging, Bee. And how did you end up in Hong Kong? ‘Cause that was in the news, too.”

“I know. I know it’s not encouraging. We learned the humans had traded Prime for a Seed -- I understand it’s a device that uses materials at hand to create the materials that make _us_ up. So we followed the company and the Seed to Hong Kong in the little ship. The company had been using Megatron’s remains to design --”

“Megatron? _Again_? Are you kidding me? Ripping his head off didn’t kill him?” Sam sat up, and Bumblebee felt Sam’s hands wrap around his steering wheel.

“Yes...and no. He drew that part of himself that had passed over back to this side? I’m not...sure. The thing that felt like him called itself Galvatron. It -- he took control of himself and the...the automata,” Bumblebee said as he took the turn onto the road leading to his makeshift hideaway. “We fought them to get control of the Seed. Prime released prisoners kept aboard the ship they took from Lockdown. Prime, uh, convinced them to help fight, but Lockdown returned while we fought to get the Seed away from Hong Kong.”

“So you fought him, too. And Megalvatron?”

Bumblebee hit his brakes in surprise. Fortunately, no one was behind him on the stretch of rural road outside the populated area. “Megalvatron? Damn, I’ll have to remember that one. Uh, we lost track of him while trying to help Prime against Lockdown. I don’t know where he is. I know, I know. That’s not reassuring, either. Lennox and Epps found us in Hong Kong again. They brought me, Hound, Drift, and Crosshairs back to this side of the Pacific, with the Yeagers.”

“The Yeagers? That the family that got railroaded into the disaster this time?”

“Honestly, I think Cade railroaded Prime into joining us,” Bumblebee muttered. “We’ve set up a place for ourselves here. Somewhere your government doesn’t know. I… I mean that I want you back in my life. I trust you, Sam.”

“But you don’t want me flaking out and putting you in danger again. Because if you found me, the government already knows where my ass is and that you’ve contacted me.” Bumblebee felt Sam drop his head back again as he laughed. The sound rattled in Bumblebee’s cabin. “Yeah. I figured. Carly’s paranoid moving won’t ever get us out and safe. Or not me. Maybe her. Maybe. Where’s Prime?”

“He left. Lockdown told him that there was a bounty on his head. From beings he called ‘the Creators’. He went to find them.”

“We far enough out you can stand up yet?”

“Uh… Another mile or two? There’s an abandoned property on a ridge. There’s a barn…”

“That where you’ve been?”

“The barn leaks, but it’s sturdy enough, and the lock’s rusted out.”

“Right.”

Sam fell silent while Bumblebee drove that last mile. The property’s gate had long since fallen down. Ahead, beside a dilapidated house, a rickety barn had just begun to lean to its left. Bumblebee slipped through the doors that hung just wide enough for him to slip through.

Inside, Bumblebee opened his door, and Sam got out, dragging his bag behind him. He backed away as Bumblebee transformed out of his alternate mode. Stretching his stress-tightened cables, Bumblebee looked up at the shafts of sunlight coming through the holes beginning in the roof. “Like I said, it leaks. But I… I didn’t think I’d be here long enough to catch a cold.”

“Ha, ha,” Sam snarked. He dropped onto half-crumbled workbench that creaked ominously under him. Setting the bag down beside himself, he reached inside for the food he had bought. “Okay. So do I know everything?”

“Everything I can tell you right now.”

“What’s that mean?”

“That means I’m trying to balance all the things I have to do with the thing I want to do, Sam.” Bumblebee sat gingerly on the floor. Brick, but it creaked as much as the bench. “You’re right that you’ve been watched by others, not just me.”

“Right. So if I did go haring off down the rabbit hole with you, there’d be some issue, huh?”

“I’ve gotten good at slipping them,” Bumblebee chuckled.

Sam looked up at him, biting into an apple then looked around the barn and back. Whatever he thought, he didn’t share. Maybe he guessed Bumblebee wouldn’t be returning to this barn, after. Maybe he had decided not to return home. Bumblebee waited while he chewed and swallowed; this was not the conversation to rush.

“So. You want me to come back to that. You want me to...to be in a relationship. With you. I mean,” Sam said, rushing to get the words out as Bumblebee held up his hands for attention, “that’s what you were saying when we talked at the house, right? That’s what you meant? Some kind of crazy man-car thing?”

“Well. I love you. I understand you’re supposed to ask the person if they’ll be with you,” Bumblebee pointed out drily.

“They don’t usually ask married people. Or, you know, people not the same species.”

Slumping, Bumblebee poked at the dirt layered over the brick under him. He watched Sam bite into the apple again before answering. “No. I got that idea. We’re…a little different. I mean, you can ask to _join_ a, um, marriage. We’ll go with your word, yeah. But breaking one up is really bad…”

“Join? What do you -- Oh. _Oh_. You know what, don’t explain, okay? Look, you know if I tell Carly I want to… Well, that I want to be with you, too, it’s so not going to go well, right? If she doesn’t decide I’m crazy and lock me up like they did good ol’ Archibald… Well. I’ll be surprised. This won’t become a happy three-way.”

“I think we all lost our minds, Sam. My people, I mean. So maybe you have, too.” Venting, he lifted his gaze from the random doodles he had made in the dirt to watch Sam chew on another bite of his apple. “I didn’t ask her, Sam. I asked you. If I have to… If she’s that important to you, I understand. But I never said I was a great person.”

“You would rather we divorced. You’re...jealous?”

“Well, you talked about kids, once. And growing old with -- Well, Mikaela then. I can’t do those things _with_ you. I can only _be_ with you. That...that time is precious. I don’t want to share it.”

“Okay, that is Fatal Attraction levels of creepy weird, Bee.” Sam put the apple core down in the bag and pulled out a bottle filled with orange juice. He shook it and watched the bubbles roll up the inside. “But I missed you, too. I just… I just don’t know, Bee. Twenty-six might not be old, but I get aches when the weather changes. Lennox and Epps are trained for that crap, you know. They can keep up with you.”

“Lennox is going grey. Epps looks the same as ever, but he moves slower. They talk about their daughters. Lennox had another, you know.”

“So you’re saying they’ll be passing the torch soon?”

“Maybe. I haven’t asked. I know we’re given permission to stay and watch over the Yeagers. I know we’ve been given an abandoned base. Lennox, Epps, and the team they lead are setting up shop on their own end. That’s what I know. They haven’t asked us to help them, but I’ve wondered if that isn’t part of the rent.”

“Like before.” Sam rubbed his face. He looked old, in that moment, and Bumblebee lowered his flaring doors and audials. Sam took a long pull from the bottle then capped it. He pulled jerky out of the bag next. “You plan to say no?”

“We can’t even seem to end our war. We wrecked then obliterated our own world. What good would us staying involved in your wars do? For either of our peoples?”

“Got me there, Bee. So. You expected I would say no.”

“You are married. And I know how Carly feels about us.” Bumblebee reached across the distance between them, resting his hand on the bench beside Sam with great care for its condition. “All you talked about was getting back to a normal life. Having normal things. I can’t offer that. Carly can, and I thought… I thought you wanted that. Maybe I’m the crazy one, but I thought, when I talked to you first at the market and again at your house, that I had a chance. Maybe. Just a little one. I’m no Ratchet, but this close I can hear your heartbeat. You’re blushing, too. I mean, I could be wrong, and you’re truly pissed at me, but… I don’t think you are.”

Sam’s blush darkened, and he bit into his jerky with more force than strictly needed. He growled when Bumblebee laughed. “It’s not funny, okay? You know if I do go with you… Epps and Lennox ain’t stupid, Bee. I leave _my wife_ for you, they’ll guess. I mean, if we act like there’s anything, and really, what asshat leaves his wife for -- for --”

“For his car?” Bumblebee shifted his hand to wrap around Sam’s side. Sam closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. Cliche or not, Bumblebee felt his spark spinning faster. “How about for his friend?”

“We’re both assholes, aren’t we?”

“Yeah. So maybe it’s better if we stick together?”

“Not leavin’ it alone, are you, Bee?”

“Nope.”

Sam pushed Bumblebee’s hand away and looked down at the jerky and orange juice bottle. “I’m going to finish this lunch. You’re going to take me back to the market, and I’ll go home.”

Bumblebee closed his optics, turning his head away. That earlier hope shriveled inside him.

Sam kicked Bumblebee’s wrist. Not hard, but it did yank Bumblebee’s attention back to him. “Damn it, Bee. Stop looking like I kicked you somewhere it hurts. I have to talk to Carly. I can’t just -- just sneak out for an affair with an alien. This is already a shitty thing to do to her. I owe her something.”

“If you’re not happy with her, how do you owe her? If you were happy, I mean, you wouldn’t…”

“I wanted to hide. She gave me that.” Sam finished his food and drink and put them in the bag before standing. He walked toward Bumblebee with it in his hand. “I thought I wanted that. I told her I did. I told myself I did. I do a lot of running, Bee. My whole life… Maybe I’m tired of it.”

“But...you’ll come back? To me?” Bumblebee shifted on the brick floor and lowered himself to face Sam directly. “Sam, I --”

“Don’t. Please. Not again. Not yet. Take me back to Carly right now. Let me talk to her. Then… Then I’ll call you again. Okay?”

“Will you come back to me?”

“Yes,” Sam whispered. “I’ll be calling you to take me home.”


	4. Seconds That Count

Carly heard something in Sam’s voice when he called her back to their home. Staring through the hotel window, she knew what it was. Carly had heard the end in men’s voices before. More often, she had heard it in her own.

Like Sam said he would be doing, she had spent the last week thinking. About the Cybertronians, about Sam, about herself. She had thought about her family that she hadn’t seen in years and the job opportunities she had missed.

She loved Sam. She believed him when he said he loved her. Love wasn’t their problem. And, if she were honest, neither were the giant alien car robots. Well, not all of their problem. Their biggest problem was they didn’t want the same things. Oh, Sam had convinced her that he did. He had convinced _himself_ , too. For years.

Looking back, she knew he had been champing at the bit for at least the last three years. And when the latest reports started, on the news, she had seen him searching the images for something… For someone.

Well, if it wasn’t a boy and his dog, a boy and his car would do, she supposed.

“I’ll… I’ll come Saturday. Okay? I’m… I’m set up for the week here.”

“Okay,” Sam said over the phone. Maybe he heard the end in her voice, too. Maybe they wouldn’t fight at all. “I’ll be here.”

“I --” Carly paused and wondered if she should say it. If it were right. But he should hear it, right? Just as she should? “I love you, Sam.”

“”Me too you, babe.”

She smiled in spite of her blurring vision. 

It was Friday before she caught sight of a yellow and black car rolling through downtown. It wasn’t the only Camaro in the township, of course. Plenty of fools old and young bought big, bright muscle cars. But this one parallel parked across from the bistro where she ate lunch with a client and no one got out. When she glared at it, no one was inside. But the brake and headlights flashed, as if to say a sheepish hello. It didn’t beep like a car alarm setting.

She turned back to her client and went on with her meeting.

Stalking briskly across the street, after, she hoped her heels sounded like war drums to the car as much as to herself. She needed something to feel brave again. She walked right up to the yellow Camaro’s door and pulled the handle. It didn’t open and for a split second she was afraid and embarrassed. Then the door opened itself, and Carly stepped around it, dropped herself into the seat, and pulled the door behind her. Carly didn’t recognize the song blurted from the radio, and she frowned at the dash.

“There’s no need for that. I will look at you, and I know what you’re doing. I should call you a bloody homewrecker.” Carly ignored the indignant squeak and pointed out into the traffic. “Come on. We’ll look silly parked here. Drive. We’re going to talk, you and I.”

“About?”

“Sam. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? I… I knew he wanted to go with you. He didn’t say it, when we talked on the phone, but I...I knew. I mean, I know he’s decided to leave with you. I know that’s what he’ll tell me tomorrow.”

“You...know? That we’re… That I…”

Carly frowned at the dash again, since that seemed to be where the alien’s voice came from. “I know Sam’s not happy with the life we’ve made. He’s not happy with his choices. What do you mean?”

“Sam is my first friend on Earth. He’s the first person I’ve cared so much for in a very long time,” Bumblebee said as he pulled out of the parking space into traffic.. “I didn’t -- You don’t have to --”

“I am not going with you,” Carly interrupted his stumbling. “I want nothing to do with you. You terrify me, all of you do. I can’t get involved in that again.”

“You came up to me --”

“I love him, you idiot robot. And he loves me. I hear the truth when he says it. But we’re… We’re not good together. I wanted us to be. So did he, but wanting it won’t make it real.” Carly folded her arms across her chest and looked out the side window. “Hiding together is what we’ve been doing. And he’s not content with that. I guess he knows what he wants now, and it isn’t me. I can scream and kick and breakdown, sure. Or I can go look for someone that’s better for me.”

“Someone without aliens in his past?”

“Don’t you dare make me sound like the bad guy here. I’m not an idiot. I don’t -- I don’t know what kind of relationship you’re hoping to have, but I know my husband is ending our marriage for it. That’s not something he would do for just a friend. A _friend_ wouldn’t be a problem. So you’re something else, whatever word he _says_ ,” Carly hissed. She hurried on before Bumblebee could interrupt her, “I’ve been thinking back on our life myself, and you know what? I’m glad. I need to be away from you. I can’t… I can’t stop being afraid. Sam -- I love him -- but he’s always a reminder, too. And there was always the chance one of you would come for him. Even if he stayed, and you left now, it would come back again. That’s what you _do_. No. I’m glad our marriage is ending. I have the papers for both of us to sign tomorrow, when I talk to him. I want you to know that you’re not good for him, either. You might be what he wants. But you’re not human. You know this is a mistake for him. Now park here. I can walk back to my hotel.”

Bumblebee did pull over, but he held his doors shut when she tried the door. As her panic struggled to slip her control, Bumblebee sighed at her, “Calm down. That… That was mean, but I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Mean? You’re calling me _mean_ with what you’re doing?” Carly smacked his window with the flat of her hand. “Let me out.”

“Please don’t hurt Sam. When you see him tomorrow. I’m not going to say I didn’t want you to leave. I wasn’t trying to hurt you either, Carly. I just… I want to be with him. And I don’t want him to be hurt.”

“Being around you will get him hurt. You know it will. Let me out.”

The door opened, and Carly fell out, gasping for air. It was in her head, and she knew that. She did. Bumblebee had a perfectly good ventilation system for keeping human passengers alive. But she hadn’t escaped or gotten over that fear these last five years, had she? It always sent her heart racing and made it hard to breathe… Now it was time to try something else. If Bumblebee said anything more to her, she didn’t hear him. Instead, she stalked toward the sidewalk, pretending her heels were still war drums.

She would win this battle for her life.

* * *

Sam craned his head back to look at the peacocks, as he mentally named them. They were brightly colored, none too bright, and he thought of them as male. Whether or not they were, Sam still hadn’t asked. Bumblebee had introduced them as Crosshairs, the trenchcoat guy, and Drift, the samurai film fan. Hound, the big dude, hung back and eyeballed him like a cockroach; which reminded him of Ironhide. And that old ache throbbed along with the newer one for Ratchet and the older one for Jazz.

What was he doing here again?

“So this is the former emissary to our people?” Drift asked.

“More I was the emissary to him,” Bumblebee snorted.

“I’m right here you know.” Sam felt like stomping his foot and waving his arms would be a bit too much like a toddler’s temper tantrum. But oh, was he tempted. “And I was a special liaison.”

“Was.” Trenchcoat-Peacock muttered. “As in you ran out on us.”

“I got married!” Sam flinched, because Carly’s demand for a divorce had hurt way more than he had thought. And signing the papers had hurt a lot less than he had expected. Wow, he had it all messed up, didn’t he?

“Lennox’s been married,” Crosshairs muttered and crouched down to peer at Sam from up close. “But bein’ as Bumblebee just broke that up for you --”

“Crosshairs!”

“Don’t make this weird.” Sam eyed Crosshairs then glanced sidelong at the more distant military personnel. The family over there probably wasn’t military. They looked as wild-eyed and shell-shocked as Sam. Probably another idiot that bought the wrong car.

“Me? How can I make this any weirder, eh? I think your mech there made this weird as it’s ever gettin’.” Crosshairs snorted and prodded Drift in the side. “But this guy thinks it’s a grand idea, he does. Maybe he can make it weirder for everyone?”

“Stop touching me or I will remove the hand myself.”

Crosshairs snorted. It sounded like a grinding transmission, and he yanked his hand back and eyed the sword Drift had taken to polishing. Ducking Hound as the big guy stepped forward, Sam found himself pressed against Bumblebee’s hand. Bumblebee had crouched to place his hand along Sam’s back, and now he nudged Sam away from the squabble. Sam found himself grinning; this felt more normal than the last five years.

The giant alien robots teasing him about a three-way he didn’t even want to begin to picture felt more real than any trip he had taken to a whole damn string of farmers’ markets.

“I have said this is a positive thing for our peoples,” Drift was saying. “The Prime has given us a task that will only be easier to complete if we share a connection with them.”

“Frag that. This is crazy stupid.” Crosshairs eyed the sword in Drift’s hands before dropping his gaze to glare sidelong at Sam. “You know it, too. Don’cha?”

“Yeah, well. I’ve never been told I’m smart. Pretty sure I’m not.”

That earned Sam a deep, rolling laugh from Crosshairs and Hound both. Bumblebee’s thumb pressed over his shoulder. Sam knew he meant it as a comfort, though Sam didn’t need it. Not for ribbing about the wackier choices in his life. Sam wouldn’t run this time.

“Well, if you’re not, neither’s he, and won’t that all be a right fine time in the end?” Still laughing, Crosshairs turned and walked toward the open hangar.

Drift followed him with his gaze before looking down at Sam again. “That you came now speaks well of you, Sam, and it buoys my hopes. Thank you.”

After nodding to Bumblebee, Drift sheathed that long sword and turned to follow Crosshairs. It wasn’t an ebullient welcome, but Sam honestly thought things were better this way. No one freaking out and name calling from the corner was an improvement over his time in the public educational system.

“So you’re Sam, huh?”

Looking up at Hound, Sam sighed. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

“Bumblebee talks about you, sometimes. Says you’re staying this time.”

“Hound,” Bumblebee muttered.

“Bee, we both know I’m a flight risk. They’re gonna ask. So, uh, Hound? Yeah, that’s the plan. To stay this time.” Sam kept looking up and Hound kept looking down. Before Bumblebee started fidgeting behind him, Sam looked away. “I’m kinda dumb for a human, so I might do something stupid again. Can’t make big promises yet.”

“Guess not. But it’d be nice to have a human hold the line for a change.” Hound stumped off toward the family and the personnel.

Sam watched him go. Bumblebee’s hand moved in a small, slow circle on his back. Looking up, Sam regretted getting out of the car again. He reached up and caught one of the cables running from arm to hand. It felt warm to his touch. “So, you talked about taking another trip, right?”

“I thought we’d stay here a few days. Let you stretch your legs more and talk to… Talk to Lennox. Meet the Yeagers.”

_Talk to humans_ , Sam thought. Letting go, he stepped away from Bumblebee’s hand so he could turn to face his… Friend really seemed lame, didn’t it? Friend was good and all that, but right now, with Crosshairs’ kind of nasty-minded ribbing and Carly’s more understandable anger ringing in his ears, Sam felt even weird thinking ‘love’, too. Maybe he did need to talk to a human. And maybe that would make him break and run. Fuck if he knew anymore. “Maybe,” he said finally. “I’d at least like to stay tonight? There’s gotta be a cot somewhere I can drag out to the hangar, right? Rest up some, before we head out?”

“Okay. You did remember to bring that raincoat, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Guys! Yo!” Lennox was waving, across the pavement. “Sam, dinner will be served in a half hour. You wanna clean up?”

“Please God, yes.”

“Get your butt over here then.”

Bumblebee’s laughter followed him as he trotted toward Lennox. “I’ll find you after you’ve eaten, okay?”

“Right.” Sam grinned back, waving. When he turned back, Lennox was walking away, brisk as ever, and Sam broke into a run to keep up. He saw the little family head for a smaller building beside the hangar as he caught up to Lennox. And he saw Lennox give him a sidelong speculative look. “Something up?”

“I didn’t expect to see you again. Thought you were chasin’ down a dream.”

“Well, when I caught it, turned out I was wrong.” Sam rubbed a sweaty palm on his pants leg. He could still feel Lennox looking at him. “So I came back.”

“So where’s Carly? It was Carly, right?”

“We, uh… We split up.”

“Aw, man. I’m sorry about that. I thought you were getting married --”

“We did. Just she didn’t want to come back. So we agreed it was better we went our separate ways.”

“Harsh,” Lennox said. His gaze flicked back to Bumblebee now standing inside the hangar. “You know, you two look cozy. Don’t remember him touching you so much, last time you were around.”

Sam tensed and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Yeah, well. Didn’t want me getting squished my first day back.”

“Sure,” Lennox said. Only it _sounded_ like he was saying ‘liar’. His expression didn’t change, but he angled just a bit away from Sam, putting distance between them.

Swallowing a sigh, Sam reached inside himself for the resolve that had once gotten him through his own death. This was his life, and he would figure it out this time. Anyone else could sit and rotate.

He could do this. He had done so much more. Let people sidestep and avoid him. He was more than they knew.

And Sam could still leave with Bumblebee tomorrow.

* * *

“Oh, holy fuck. _Wow_ ,”

Sam stepped back, straining to take in the single biggest Cybertronian Bumblebee had ever seen, let alone his human. The metal tyrannosaur looked back out of one optic, head cocked but moving with Sam, and whipped a massive tail back and forth between the trees.

“Grimlock?” Bumblebee held a hand down in Sam’s direction as Sam moved. “This is Sam.”

“Sam from memory.”

“Memory?” Sam didn’t look at Bumblebee, but he swallowed hard. Bumblebee watched his Adam’s apple bob and reset his own vocalizer with an embarrassed squeal.

“Uh, well… I was catching Grimlock up,” Bumblebee said. He shifted his gaze to Grimlock and rolled his weight from one pede to the next before he forced himself to continue. “Last time he was on Earth, it was, uh, your Late Cretaceous.”

He felt Sam’s eyes land on him like a blow. Bumblebee would never read human minds, but he would have sworn he heard Sam ask how old he was. Almost.

“Sam is tiny creature.” Grimlock lowered his head until his near optic was level with Sam. Bumblebee remembered Jurassic Park and almost choked when Sam turned around and yelped.

“Yikes! I’m feeling pretty damn small right now!”

“Grimlock watch step. Friend Bumblebee love Sam.”

“Um…”

“You not say him.” Lifting his head, Grimlock snorted at Bumblebee, then turned and thrust his nose into Sam’s torso. Sam grabbed onto Grimlock’s nostrils to keep from being shoved over. The huge mech drew in a sharp vent to analyze and record Sam’s scent. Bumblebee had watched Grimlock do this with each of them and the few humans that knew the dinobots were out here in the northwestern wilds. It reminded him of Ratchet, and that was a rare bit of comfort. “Grimlock home here before. Make new home again.”

“Say me? What?” Eyes wide, Sam let go of Grimlock’s nose as he pulled his head back.

“Grimlock is a lot older than I am. We’re still working on his speech, but I didn’t think it was that important, all things considered,” Bumblebee said dryly. Rocking on his pedes again, he looked at Grimlock. “My friend here told me I should go talk to you. About things.”

“Um.” Sam was _looking_ at Bumblebee. And Bumblebee didn’t want to meet his gaze.

Fortunately, Grimlock snorted and they both could stop _looking_ and _not looking_ and stare at him. “Sam come with Bumblebee.”

“Well, yeah,” Sam mumbled. “I… I missed him. A lot. You know.”

“Yes. Grimlock miss old Earth.” Hunkering down, Grimlock nosed Sam again. “But new Earth here. Bumblebee share memory. Maybe Sam share too.”

“I can’t plug in, y’know.”

“Sam say memory. Come inside now. Rain again soon.” Grimlock turned, easily avoiding Sam, Bumblebee and the tree trunks around them, and picked his way down the game trails he and his were steadily widening. Through sheer size, they broke off leaves and weaker limbs, but Grimlock had chosen the location to be as difficult for the humans to access as possible.

Grimlock had laughed him when Bumblebee had tried to warn him about the humans’ weapon capabilities, and approaching the ship an hour’s rough hike later, he could see why. Sam wouldn’t see it, but Bumblebee caught the telling glimmer of a defensive block arcing over the battered hull. It dropped as Grimlock entered the cleared area around it.

“This home. Ugly, but roof not leak.” Grimlock snorted, a surprisingly animal noise and ducked inside the torn tail section. “Got room. No one stare.”

“Dude, does he know? Like really _know_?”

Bumblebee looked down at Sam and reset his vocalizer with an audible click. “I wasn’t asking him what he got up to with t-rexes. But he thought I shouldn’t miss the chance to tell you… To tell you how I felt.”

“Oh.” Sam’s eyes fell and slid toward the ship. “Well. It’s already weird enough, ain’t it? At least Lennox and Epps aren’t here looking at me weird and whispering at the Yeagers. Let’s go.”

Sam reached up to pat Bumblebee’s shin before slogging inside. Calling ahead, Sam began to ramble. “Okay, Grimlock. I got a lot of memories. How about a Chihuahua named Mojo? First, I guess I should explain dogs --”

Bumblebee felt the first fat drops fall from the sky above. The distant sun, perched just above the distant mountains to the west of them, created golden swatches across the bottom of the cloud bank.

As he had begun to do when Sam accepted his offer, Bumblebee filed this moment into his permanent memory; with Sam’s voice echoing out of the ship explaining to a sniggering Grimlock how humans had domesticated dogs. Grimlock was right, after all. There would only be one Sam, and that meant everything would be precious. Dropping his gaze, Bumblebee followed them both inside.


End file.
